Especially after hearing that vicious curse from my mother's mouth. The hatred only deepened.

My father sighed and told her to stop.

"What's done is done. What's the point of saying all that now?"

Then he turned to look at me. "Lily, everyone in the family has already gone in for HLA typing. Will you go get tested too?"

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I'd known all along my parents would eventually ask me to get tested.

The reason they hadn't asked sooner was simple: they thought my marrow was too dirty to be worthy of my sister's precious body.

They'd always believed I wasn't worthy of her. That's why, growing up, when my sister outgrew her clothes, they'd rather sell them or give them away than let me wear them.

Everything I wore was secondhand from relatives and neighbors. Stained clothes that wouldn't come clean no matter how many times you washed them. Some of them reeked.

I thought about the message my father had posted in the family group chat: five thousand dollars for anyone who went in for typing.

I tested the waters. "If I go get typed, do I get the five thousand too?"

My parents froze.

My mother set down her chopsticks and started dabbing at her eyes.

"I told you she was born to bleed us dry! Her sister is that sick, and when we ask her own flesh and blood to go get typed, she has the nerve to ask us for money!"

"I said we should've given her away. You wouldn't listen. Look at what we're dealing with now!"

My father's face darkened. "Lily, she's your sister. Family doesn't keep score like that."

I wanted to tell them I had no money.

I'd only been out of college two years. Five thousand a month. Two thousand of that went straight to the household. On top of that I bought groceries, toiletries, and covered the water, electric, and gas bills.

Now that I was sick, I needed to save every penny I could for myself.

But looking at my mother wiping her tears and my father sitting there in stony silence, I couldn't hold my ground.

I just gave a small nod.

"Okay."

When the doctor saw I'd come in for bone marrow typing, he was thrilled. He'd been urging me to come in sooner, saying the earlier the procedure, the higher the success rate.

After the test, my parents were on edge. So was I.

I knew this was my one and only chance.

The expedited results came back. A match.